


Descendant

by shikaghost



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Ocarina of Time & Majora's Mask, Shapeshifting, Slow Burn, Wherein Link's ancestor teaches him how to turn into a wolf, Wolf Link (BOTW style)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-11-14 08:04:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11203851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shikaghost/pseuds/shikaghost
Summary: King Rhoam wasn't the only spirit to visit Link when he awoke. He simply showed up first. The second was just as mysterious, far more ominous, and had more to give than words of guidance.The Hero's Spirit still has something left to teach. Link's not entirely certain if that's a good thing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi ao3 I've never written fic in my life but that won't stop me from retconning lore for wish fulfillment. unbeta'd and written on an espresso high

The Spirit of King Rhoam disappears with the setting sun, leaving behind only a ghostly echo of his final plea. His words reverberate off the ruined walls of the temple, _You must save Hyrule... You must save Hyrule... You must save Hyrule..._ until they too are gone and Link is alone. 

The writhing red and black mass of shadows engulfing the castle rage on in the distance. 

Link moves to the mouth of the broken window where the king had stood. He watches, transfixed with dread, as the bestial form of Calamity Ganon rises again into the sky. It circles the tallest towers of the castle before loosing a roar that makes the earth tremble.The ancient temple around him groans under the tremors, showering Link with dust and small particles of debris. 

He takes an unsteady step back and can't help but think, with the faintest sense of familiarity, that Ganon looks all the more horrific in the dying light of day. 

He's supposed to stop that. The Princess is trapped in the castle with that. He can't even remember her face, or the names of the Champions, or anything beyond today. It makes his heart clench sickeningly and Link turns away from the window as Calamity Ganon dives back into the shadows.

Twilight falls. 

Link carefully makes his way down to the base of the temple, eyeing the dormant Guardians warily as he does. The sight of them sends a little thrill of fear down his spine. He has no memory of the machines but something in his gut tells him his last encounter with them didn't end well. The king hadn't been specific when he spoke of Link's fall, and Link wasn't really sure if he wanted the details just yet.

 _You're still alive,_ He thinks a little desperately. _You're someone, even if you're not sure who. It's a start._

The air chills and he tugs at his doublet. What's left of the Temple of Time offers little in the way of protection from environment and beasts alike. The cabin to the south that King Rhoam had shown him earlier seemed like the best place to spend the night. Come morning he'd head east and seek out that village - Kakariko? was that what the spirit called it? -and with any luck this Impa could help him recover something of his lost memories.

A sound splits the air behind him, lyrical and fleeting. 

Without stopping to think Link's hand goes for the sword at his hip. Some long-buried instinct prompts him to draw the weapon as his body folds into a defensive stance and he turns to find - 

\- nothing. 

Blue eyes scan the dim lighting for signs of life but find only crumbling, overgrown stone. 

"King Rhoam?" He tries. Had his spirit returned? Perhaps he'd forgotten to mention something. Link waits, but nothing answers. The temple is empty. There's no one here but him. Whoever, or whatever, had made the noise is gone. And the only sound he hears now is his own heart thundering in his chest.

Yet despite the apparent solitude he can't shake the feeling that something was watching him.

Thoroughly unnerved, Link heads out of the temple. He keeps a white-knuckled grip on his sword as he starts to move south. Night has fallen proper now. Thousands of stars hang in the sky. He picks out a few constellations he recognizes from the walls of the Oman Au Shrine as Hyrule field is bathed in the pale shine of moonlight. 

When he's put a few hundred feet between himself and the temple, Link glances back. For a split second he thinks he sees the shape of a large animal. Before he can blink it's gone.

Link sheathes his sword and pulls the bow from his back. He knocks an arrow and fires it towards the temple, hoping to startle rather than hit. Maybe he can scare the beast out into the open and put his nerves at ease. Some animal must've made a home in the temple and hid while he and the king conversed. Glimpsing it would certainly make him feel better. 

The arrow hits the outer walls of the Temple of Time and clatters noisily to the ground. No animal emerges. Link waits a minute before lowering his bow. 

A trick of the moonlight, he tells himself, even when the feeling of eyes on his back follows him all the way to the cabin. 

 

-

 

The fire outside has finally died down to a pile of glowing embers and ash. He'd kept it burning bright for the first hour after reaching the little hut and had taken watch, bow in his lap. The only thing he'd seen in that hour had been a few owls in the trees, hooting happily at him. No spirits. No large beasts. By the time he headed inside he felt a little more at ease. 

Now he lies sprawled gracelessly across the bed, weapons sitting on the table nearby. The bed is lumpy and the blankets are threadbare. But it's better than the ground. Better than a slab of stone inside the Shrine of Ressurection. With a little maneuvering he manages to find a semi-comfortable position. Once he's settled Link pulls the Sheikah Slate from his hip, turning the tablet over curiously.

It had belonged to the princess. Or so King Rhoam had said. Owned by the princess and left in the shrine along with her knight for the day he'd wake up.  
Link rests the slate on his chest and shuts his eyes. He sifts through the white space that takes the place of his memories, and tries to find an image of Zelda. He comes up empty at every turn.  
Her voice, when she'd first called to him, left an aching loneliness blooming in its wake. It had smothered his heart like a poisonous weed. He longs for it now, with only the sounds of the night to keep him company.

How can you miss someone you don't remember?

_Someone you left to contain Calamity Ganon all by herself. A century alone with that monster._

The weight of the Sheikah Slate feels unbearably heavy on his chest. Link shoves it under the bed where its glowing symbols are safely out of sight. He wraps his arms around himself and digs his nails into his skin. 

He has no idea how he's going to do this. The world is ravaged and blighted, and he's alone in it without one familiar face. How was he supposed to stop the Calamity? How could he succeed where an entire kingdom failed?

Tears blur his vision. He sees out of nowhere a flash of red and gold before he can blink them away, and something in him cries out in recognition. He knows those colors, he knows them. Link makes a wet, strangled noise and reaches out, waiting for the soothing touch his struggling memory tells him will come. For the smell of sea salt and reassuring words. For a healing embrace. 

There's a name on the back of his tongue, one his heart tells him he knows but doesn't fully understand yet. But before he can speak it his vision clears. And the image before him is wrong and jars so sharply with whoever he'd been on the precipice of remembering that the relief slips away and fear takes its place.

Because sitting in front of him is is a giant wolf. 

The beast is spectral and gold and roughly the size of a small horse, looking massive where it sits in the middle of the cabin. One of its eyes is scarred shut while the other is a vicious, glowing red and focused with an alarming intensity on Link's face. 

How did it get in here without him noticing? It wasn't possible - he would've heard it! This was no normal animal. As if it's peculiar appearance weren't a dead giveaway. 

The wolf is between him and the table he'd placed his weapons on, he realizes with a mounting panic. 

There's a beat where neither of them move. Link hardly dares to breathe. The very air between them feels charged, like a fuse ready to go off at any moment. For a wild, hopeful minute Link thinks the creature might not be here to harm him. Then the wolf opens its mouth in an unmistakable snarl and prepares to lunge.

Link surges up at the same time, cursing his luck as he tries to roll into a dodge. If he can just get to his sword - 

Heavy paws catch his shoulders and throw him back. The air is pushed from his lungs and the weight of the wolf keeps him from drawing any in. He hears the same strange noise he'd heard in the temple as the wolf goes for his throat. He recognizes the sound for what it is this time as the world goes white.

It was a song.

 

-

 

If waking up in unfamiliar places wasn't a habit of his, it was soon becoming one. Unlike his slow awakening in the Shrine of Resurrection, this time consciousness hits him hard and fast. He lurches up with a shout, chest heaving as his hands fly to his throat. Mercifully, the skin is unbroken and there's no sign of the wolf. These revelations do little to soothe him, as he has no idea as to where he is.

Link pushes himself to his feet and takes stock of his surroundings. 

The room he finds himself in is small, circular, and humbly furnished. Personal belongings decorate it. A boomerang, a mounted Keaton mask - his gaze lingers on a sword of such diminutive size it looks as though it were made for a child. But most puzzling are the walls and the floor, which look to be hewn from rough bark and the growth rings of a tree.

Link crosses the room to the window above the bed and looks out, confirming his suspicions. 

A home carved into the heart of a tree. Located in what looked to be a village in the middle of a dense forest, no less. But whose home was it? Nothing here sparked any kind of recognition in him. But neither did King Rhoam when he'd appeared, even though the long-dead ruler claimed they knew each other once.

The sunlight catches on something in his peripheral, the glint pulling him from his thoughts. Link glances behind him. On the table in the center of the room sits an ocarina, small and blue. 

There's nothing remarkable about the ocarina. It's perfectly ordinary, and as wholly unfamiliar as everything else around him. 

And yet his feet carry him towards it as though magnetized and he closes a hand around the little instrument. 

The quiet is shattered by a cacophony of voices the moment he does, indiscernible and so deafening he fears his skull might split. His surroundings crumble around him as the world violently reshapes itself, and Link finds himself thrown harshly to the ground, into mud and a rain so heavy he can hardly see. Link pushes wet hair from his face as he struggles to stand.

Another sound can be heard over the downpour - heavy hooves against wet earth. Link barely manages to roll out of the way as a white horse comes barreling out of the darkness towards him. He glimpses its riders as it charges past - a fierce-looking woman curled protectively around a child who looks back at him with wide, fearful eyes. The young girl throws something, but he loses sight of it in the rain. 

A second figure emerges from the storm. A Gerudo man astride an armored black horse, his features twisted in vicious glee as he gives chase. Their eyes meet for a fraction of a second as he passes and when they do a black fury rolls across the man's face. The Gerudo changes course, urging his horse straight towards Link, one hand outstretched and glowing with a dark purple energy. Link stumbles back, feet catching in the mud and he falls. The world bleeds away in a roar of sound before he hits the ground -

-He's weightless, submerged underwater in the halls of a temple. A few air bubbles escape his lips as he gasps in surprise. A trilling laugh echoes through the water, the noise strange in his ears. Above him floats a Zora, beautiful and beaming, an expectant look in her purple eyes. She beckons him to follow before swimming up and out of sight. When he kicks his legs and tries to follow he's suddenly pulled back down, lungs burning as an iron weight around his feet drags him into the dark -

-A clock tower stands before him and the world is washed in red. The town he's in is catching fire, buildings cracking and breaking as the earth shudders beneath them. A horrible pressure feels like it's bearing down on him, searing his skin and threatening to snap his bones. In horror Link looks up and sees the moon falling rapidly from the sky. It has a face, he thinks wildly. Awful to behold and warped in an insane expression. It's wreathed in fire and close enough to touch. Link remains frozen in place as it crashes down and splits the land beneath him - 

Cold, fog-covered ground rushes up to meet him. He lands harshly on his knees, gritting his teeth against the impact. An unnatural chill begins to seep into his body as the dense mist rises to his chest. Link staggers to his feet.

The heavy fog spreads as far as he can see in every direction, the only other thing besides him in this empty, pale world. Link takes a hesitant step forward, waiting for his surroundings to change once more and take him somewhere new, but everything remains.

He walks. 

Minutes pass. Maybe an hour. Maybe two. He finds it impossible to tell the passage of time accurately here. The landscape stays unchanging, and the fog never dissipates no matter how far he goes. Surely it has to end somewhere, he thinks. The cold is starting to deaden his limbs, and he almost wishes for the cataclysm of the falling moon again, if only to break the monotony, when his foot connects with something hard.

Pain lances up his leg. Link swears under his breath before kneeling, moving his hands blindly through the fog. Perhaps he should exercise some caution, but he's more than a little desperate to take his leave of this place.  
His fingers graze the surface of something large. He finds the rounded edges of the object and hauls it up through the mist. 

It's a shield, cracked and overgrown with ivy. He clears away the vines and uncovers a faded red insignia on the shield's face. Link runs a hand across its surface. 

What was it doing here? It didn't look to hold any special significance, but then again neither did the ocarina. And like the ocarina, he was sure he'd never laid eyes on this shield before. Perhaps there was more buried under the mist. 

He doesn't get a chance to look as the silence is broken by the sound of a blade swinging through the air. Long-buried instinct and muscle memory scream awake and Link hauls the shield up and over his head, just in time to catch a sword on its down swing. The force of the blow makes his teeth rattle. His grip nearly falters. With a snarl Link shoves himself to his feet and braces for another attack.

It doesn't come. Whatever attacked him is nowhere in sight.

Link lowers himself into a defensive battle stance and holds the shield closer to his body. He had half a mind to drop it; Ever since waking in the treehouse, what few objects he touched, ill things were quick to follow. But this shield was the only thing stopping some unseen enemy from taking his head off. 

After the wolf attacked he'd been clinging to the slim hope that whatever brought him here didn't wish him any harm. Even the visions, as disturbing as they'd been, left him unscathed. But this - whatever lurked in the mist had tried to land a killing blow. There was no room for doubt.

_It's the Calamity, then. Come to finish the job it started 100 years ago._

"Not quite." A voice like gristle and bone calls from behind him, answering his unspoken thoughts.

Link turns, readies the shield and blocks an incoming strike. The clash of sword against shield echoes across the mist. This time, Link gets a look at his attacker.

A Stalfos donned in decrepit armor looms over him, its body alternating between discolored bone and transparent black smoke. Ivy blooms across its pauldrons and breastplate. Beneath its broken, three-horned helm, one wicked red eye leers at him.  
Link feels the air leave his lungs as realization dawns on him.

"You. You're the wolf." 

The huge, rusted broadsword the Stalfos wields is still bearing down on Link's shield. It narrows its eye at him and adjusts its hold.

"I am."

"What more than that?" Link growls as he summons his strength and bats the blade away.

The Stalfos doesn't answer him. It doesn't even stagger, merely swings its sword in a wide, graceful arc at Link's undefended side. Link ducks out of its path, hastily putting more distance between them that the Stalfos closes easily, advancing as the fog around them begins to rise. 

They weave through the mist of this vacant world, locked in a deadly dance with one another. The Stalfos is relentless, never tiring, each strike more vicious than the last. The impact of every attack Link braces against rocks him to his core; the creature's strength is far beyond anything he's encountered since leaving the Shrine. Sweat beads on his brow as exhaustion begins to weigh heavy his limbs. He fears they may falter under the endless onslaught. 

_I won't outlast it,_ he thinks grimly. But at the rate the fog is rising he may not even have to wait until his body gives out. It's at his shoulders now. In mere moments it will overtake his head and blind him. 

_Then I'll have little to do but wait for the bite of steel in my back._

He blocks another blow, knees nearly buckling against the impact. Using the momentum of the Stalfos's swing he pushes the blade away once again. Its sword arm goes wide and Link sees his opening. Without giving his enemy time to react Link lunges forward through the fog and strikes out with his shield. He can scarcely see the creature and prays he connects with its weapon. If he can just disarm it he can turn the tide of this fight.

The mist engulfs them completely as his shield is suddenly knocked from his grasp. It goes flying, disappearing into the fog. Two spectral hands reach for him, one closing around his wrist and the other grabbing his chin. Terror seizes him as the Stalfos steps close and forces his head back. 

Link stares, wide-eyed and unable to move. 

It left itself open on purpose, he realizes. Humiliation burns hot in his gut, made worse by the fact that the creature sheathed its sword to take hold of him. It hadn't even disarmed him with the intent of a quick death. The Stalfos was going to toy with him before killing him proper. The visions weren't enough, the sword fight wasn't enough. It was going to drag this out, like a wolf playing with its food.

Fury crashes in his chest, smothering his fear like dirt over fire, and Link glares up into the Stalfos's wasted face. He wasn't going to die cowering in this thing's grip. Not in this awful place. He won't give this monster the satisfaction. 

The sensation is familiar, and he understands why with a weak laugh. It must not have been the first time he's stared down his own demise. 

That one, horrible red eye blinks slowly at him as a skeletal thumb presses against his mouth. The creature's touch is like ice upon his skin. Seconds that feel like centuries pass and the Stalfos does nothing, not even reach for its blade.

The wait is agonizing and Link feels part of his resolve to bear it silently crumble just a fraction.

"What do you want from me?" He asks against the digit pressed to his lips, voice barely above a whisper. 

There's no response. The Stalfos regards him with an emotion Link can't name and leans in, close enough that he can see thin, spiderweb cracks in its skull. The hand holding his chin slides up his cheek until its palm rests against the side of his face. Link fights back a shudder at the sensation of bony fingers sliding into his hair and tries to jerk away. 

The Stalfos holds fast, doesn't give him an inch. The hand in his hair tightens painfully. 

"Who are you?" Link gasps. He doesn't expect to be dignified with a response. He's shocked when he is.

"You will soon find out."

A thumb smooths his bangs away from his forehead. The touch is strangely gentle, until the Stalfos presses down and it burns, like a molten sun settling in his bones and hollowing out every inch of him. 

Darkness begins to swallow up his vision until everything is narrowed to a single point, focused with horrible clarity on the Stalfos's skull. 

_Wake up,_ a voice calls through the mist. _Wake up!_

_I can't._

He can't do anything, can't breathe, can't move, can't tear his gaze away from that single, glowing red eye. Burning bright and for half a second, _blue,_ before the shadows take it too.

 

-

 

"- wake up! Hey! Are you listening?"

He feels himself being shaken. A voice bellowing in his ears. 

"You gotta wake up!" 

Link opens his eyes. 

He gulps down air like a drowning man. An unfamiliar face swims in and out of focus above him. 

His mind can't catch up, doesn't register his surroundings. Doesn't notice the world returned to vivid color or feel the bright morning sunlight pouring into the cabin. He still hears the Stalfos's awful voice, feels the phantom chill, so when the stranger reaches for him again, Link reacts. With a wordless cry of rage he slams his shoulder into the other person and knocks them out of the way as he goes for his weapons. He rips his sword from its sheath in one fluid motion. One hand fists itself in the stranger's shirt and hauls them in close. The other brings the blade to their neck. 

Link holds it there and stares, unseeing, at the thin red line that appears on their throat. 

They go still and choke down a whimper. The sound is grounding and slowly, Link comes back to himself. And he notices, with horror, that the body he's holding is warm and alive and very much not made of frigid bone. 

His hand spasms. He drops his sword. It hits the ground with a dull thud. The stranger lets out a watery breath and hastily steps back when Link releases him. 

He's back in the cabin, back in Hyrule. No Stalfos in sight. Instead there was a person- it's a person - a person. He almost just killed - 

"Sorry, I'm sorry - I didn't mean - I'm - " He falters as shame takes his words from him. Link feels himself sink weakly to his knees. He glances up rather helplessly at the stranger, unsure of what to do.

He's a Hylian, Link notes dimly. He didn't look much older than Link himself, with a long, freckled face and unfortunate haircut. The man rubs his throat and stares warily at Link. After a minute of some kind of internal struggle, he steps forward and offers a hand. Link accepts it gratefully and lets himself be pulled to his feet. The stranger is quick to pull away, however.

"You're not going to attack me again, are you?" He asks nervously.

"No," Link says, unsure whether he should be indignant or apologetic. "That wasn't - that was an accident. I thought you were...somebody else."

"Someone from that wild dream you were having? It must've been some nightmare!" 

"Nightmare?" Link repeats dumbly.

The man frowns at him. "You were yelling loud enough to wake the dead! I thought someone was getting attacked so I came to investigate...and found you in here, thrashing and screaming your head off in that bed. When I tried to wake you up you nearly mauled me." He finishes with a reproachful look.

"I'm sorry." The words feel useless in his mouth. 

"Well," The stranger says, expression clearing. "No permanent harm done, I guess. I'm Beedle, by the way. Traveling merchant, buyer and seller of various goods. I provide the people of Hyrule with all sorts of valuable items!" It sounds scripted, but is said with such a gusto that Link can't help but crack a small, tired smile. 

"I'm Link."

"Link, huh! Nice to meet you. Thanks for not chopping my head off."

"Ah...you're welcome. I don't usually make a habit of meeting new people like that...I think."

"That's good to hear. What had you so wound up in the first place?" Beedle asks.

"I was attacked. There was - there was a wolf..." Link trails off as he remembers the events of the previous night. Had all of that been real, or just some vivid hallucination-turned-nightmare? 

"A wolf?" 

"You didn't see one, did you?" Link asks, moving forward so suddenly that Beedle stumbles back a step. "A huge, golden one with a red eye?"

There's a pause where Beedle just looks at him, a dubious expression on his face.

"No," Beedle says slowly. Frowns again. "Did you take a fall recently?"

Link blinks at him. "Huh?"

"You know, a fall? Head injury?"

Link sighs and drops onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. The first living person he's met and already he's making them doubt his sanity.

_Nearly killing him certainly did you no favors, either._

"Uh. There, there." Beedle pats his back awkwardly. "There are healers for this sort of thing you know."

Link's head shoots up. "I'm not crazy." He says flatly. "I know what I saw."

Beedle holds both hands up in supplication. "Ok, ok. I mean, you still might want to get that mark checked out but - "

"Mark?"

"The one in the middle of your forehead!"

Link touches where the Stalfos had burned him.There's nothing but smooth skin beneath his fingertips. Beedle leans in to inspect it.

"It's pretty faint. Not really noticeable unless you're up close. Shaped like a triangle. Your bangs actually hide most of it. It's not a birthmark, is it?"

"I don't think so."

Concern and curiosity gnaw at him, but until he can find a mirror or a clear lake, Beedle's description will have to suffice. He'll worry about the ramifications of what it means later. 

"I'd see a healer, get it checked out. They might be able to do something about the nightmares too. Some sleeping potion maybe. Herbal tea." Beedle hums, tapping his chin.

"I'll take it into consideration."

"See that you do! As nice as you seem, avoiding a repeat of today might be in everyone's best interests." Beedle says not unkindly. His smile is sincere, and Link takes comfort in it. 

"Thank you, for trying to help by the way." Link murmurs, running a hand through his hair. It's a good thing his screaming drew the attention of someone with a kind heart rather than a monster with a weapon. 

"It's what I'm here for!" Beedle chirps.

"Would you mind helping me with one other thing?" Link asks as he fishes the Sheikah Slate out from under the bed. 

"Sure, if I'm able. What do you need?"

Link resheathes his sword, tucks it and the slate onto his belt, and slings his bow over his back.

"Point me on the safest path to Kakariko Village?"

Beedle beams. 

"Ha! I'll do you one better. I'm headed that way myself; I'll go with you. It's wild out there, and two on the road is safer than one."

 

-


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (all of you who left comments and kudos are so very kind and i want to buy you all flowers. i'm am hideously shy & awful at replying but please know those comments made my entire week)

They set out east immediately. Link is eager to leave the cabin and Temple of Time behind. 

Beedle's company, he finds, is like a balm on his troubled mood. Beedle fills the time with his cheerful chatter, keeping an excellent pace for someone toting around a giant, beetle-shaped backpack (complete with horns). Link had marveled at first how easily the merchant moved with the weight of his mobile stall, and had a good laugh when he glimpsed the green and white striped canopy and protruding flag with a depiction of Beedle's face attached to it. 

He was still a bit worried the weight might over-tip him, but Beedle didn't falter. He was a little winded after half a day of travel, but kept up a steady stream of conversation.

An hour into their trek, Link had spoken about his amnesia and hundred-year slumber. Beedle, to his credit, only spluttered a little bit at the news. Afterwards, he'd made it his personal goal to spend his time filling Link in on everything he'd missed. It became overwhelming and irrelevant very fast (he truly didn't care about the evolution of elixirs in the last century but he appreciated the sentiment behind it.) 

They'd eventually narrowed it down to more important topics. And now, day half done and half way to Kakariko, Link had a tenuous grasp on the state of things. 

Beedle never asked again about the nightmare that led to their meeting, and for that Link was grateful. He's not ready to breathe life into it just yet. He's still not sure if it was real. Maybe the Shrine of Resurrection took more than just his memories. 

" - and then of course that brings us back to the nonstop rainfall in the Lanayru region, as I mentioned earlier." Beedle was saying, waving his hands emphatically. 

Link nods, half his focus on the Sheikah Slate in his hands. 

The map on the device was infinitely useful, even incomplete as it was. And coupled with Beedle's knowledge of the roads and unmarked monster camps, their journey was turning out to be remarkably peaceful. 

Small favors. 

"The Divine Beast's doing." Link says a little absently, tapping the tablet screen and enlarging Zora's Domain on the map.

"That's right. Vah Rutah. It's been flooding the East Reservoir Lake. It's lucky the dam's held this long. If it were to break, well. I hope you know how to swim!" Beedle rubs the back of his neck. He looks a little uneasy. "The entire kingdom could be flooded. A century's worth of water!"

_Let's pray it doesn't come to that,_ Link thinks. Vah Rutah isn't the only Divine Beast that needs his attention. But it might be the one he focuses on first after speaking with Impa. 

He just hopes she has the answers he's looking for. None of his memories have returned, try as he might to trigger them as he and Beedle traveled. Granted it'd only been a day, but he was starting to wonder if recuperating in the shrine took them permanently.

Like clockwork, Beedle breaks him out of his reverie. 

"Look! We're approaching the Dueling Peaks. They're quite the sight, aren't they?"

In the distance ahead of them towers a pair of twin mountains, tall enough to break through the cloud line. A steep, jagged divide separates the two peaks right down the middle, and Link sees the dirt road they're on disappear into the gap. 

Beedle whistles, hands on his hips. 

"Imagine climbing that."

"Imagine paragliding off that."

Beedle shoots him a slightly panicked look, says "Don't," and Link laughs. 

"I'm kidding," He assures his traveling companion. And if he's a bit more serious than he lets on, well. It's nothing to worry Beedle over. The poor merchant had gone white as a sheet when Link offhandedly mentioned gliding off the Great Plateau the day before. It had been both exhilarating and terrifying. He'd landed gracelessly in the dirt, bubbling with laughter and stumbling on wobbly legs. 

Of all the things King Rhoam had left for him, the paraglider was by far his favorite. 

They decide to stop for a late lunch and a brief rest at the foothills of the Dueling Peaks, near a small wooded area just off the path. They settle under the shade of an old oak. 

"Squabble River's just on the other side of the road." Beedle says as he sets about removing his backpack. Link helps him lower it gently to the ground. Once it's down Beedle begins to rummage through it. "I'll get us some water to boil if you'll grab some firewood."

"Alright." Link agrees, adjusting the bow on his back and making for the trees. "Mind the current, try not to fall in." 

There's an indignant squawk behind him and he hears Beedle call out.

"You did see me walk all the way here with a stall that's bigger than me, right? And if anyone's telling someone to be careful, it should be me! You're practically an old man! Don't bust your hip when you're getting those branches!" 

Link smiles. He's been doing a lot of that today. It's easier with his back to the castle and the Calamity out of sight. 

He tries not to feel too guilty about it. 

The woods are small and filled with birdsong. Sunlight filters through the leaves, warming his skin and throwing the fauna in bright shades of green. 

Link stands on his tip toes and reaches for the low hanging bough of the closest tree. He snaps off a few branches, tucks them under his arm. The menial task is relaxing, and helps draw his mind away from darker subjects it tries to stray towards. 

A branch cracks loudly up ahead and when he glances up he spots a Korok with a heart leaf face in one of the trees. 

"Oh. Hello."

The Korok doesn't say anything. It tilts its head curiously and waves a stick covered in flower buds at him. 

"I won't take much." Link promises the spirit as he passes. 

The Korok follows, hopping from branch to branch on its stubby legs after him. When he snaps more twigs off the trees it whacks his fingers playfully. Occasionally it will point at different spots in the tall-grass until Link sifts through it and finds broken branches. The spirit dances excitedly each time Link nods his thanks.

It isn’t long before he’s collected a decent amount and decides to head back. Beedle would get a fire going, they would eat and refill their waterskins and probably make Kakariko by nightfall. 

“You’re being followed.” The Korok says suddenly. 

“Mm. By a helpful little forest spirit.” 

“No! Not by me.” The Korok chirps and Link stops mid step. He looks around the empty grove before turning to the spirit. 

“I have someone traveling with me. A merchant. Are you talking about him?” He asks.

The Korok shakes its head. “No, no! It’s something else, something hidden!”

Link’s stomach plummets into his feet. He drops his bundle of wood and draws his sword as anxiety grips him with sharp claws. A monster stalking him through the trees is the first thing that comes to mind. But the birdsong hadn’t stopped. And wouldn’t Beedle have called out if he’d seen something? The grove was small, it’d be difficult for something to enter unnoticed.

The Korok vanishes and reappears in front of him in a flurry of leaves. It steps lightly on the edge of his blade. 

“Something _dead_.”

“Do you know what it is?” Link asks, scanning his surroundings. His traitorous mind brings up a vivid image of the Stalfos from his dreams. 

“It’s...” The Korok pauses, looking stumped. Link gets the distinct impression it’d be frowning if it could. Then it brightens and taps his nose with the end of its stick. One of the flower buds falls off. 

“It’s a spirit! You have a spirit tied to you!”

Well that’s hardly helpful, he wants to snarl. 

“What kind of spirit? What does it want? _Where_ is it?” 

There’s a sharp cry from the direction of the river before the Korok can answer him, and as soon as Link looks toward the sound, the Korok disappears, leaving behind little pink flower petals on his sword. 

“Damn it!”

Spirits, Link decides as he sprints through the trees, are the most useless, _vague_ , and frustrating things in all of Hyrule. He'd take a mob of Bokoblins any day. At least they were straightforward about what they wanted. 

He emerges from the grove, sword at the ready. It doesn't take him long to find the source of the noise. 

There at the edge of the river are two Moblins. And held up by the neck and struggling in the smaller one’s grasp is Beedle. 

The bigger Moblin has dragged Beedle’s backpack over near the water’s edge, and is tearing through its contents with little regard. One meaty fist closes around a delicate bushel of dried herbs. The monster sniffs it, recoils, and chucks it into the river. Beedle makes a distressed noise and kicks feebly, prompting the Moblin holding him to give him a violent shake. 

It squeezes its hand and Beedle begins to turn blue. The monster laughs. 

Link feels his blood burn and the supposed mark on his forehead itch. He unfastens his bow, nocks an arrow and lets it fly, smooth as silk, directly between the beady blue eyes of the Moblin choking Beedle. 

It hits with a thunk. The Moblin’s jaw falls open, tongue lolling out as its fingers go slack. Beedle slips free and lands in a heap on the ground, no doubt bruised but alive. The arrow-stuck Moblin groans and staggers once, twice, before toppling over dead.  
Link sees Beedle scramble away from the body and look his way. His relieved shout of “Link!” is drowned by the furious roar of the second Moblin. Once the monster realizes its companion won’t be getting up again it charges at Link, brandishing a large wooden club over its horned head. 

Link tucks into a neat roll and dodges out of the way before the monster or its crude weapon can collide with him. He darts behind the Moblin before it can turn and slashes at its ankle, cutting deep into the tendon. 

The grass turns red. 

The Moblin collapses onto one knee with an anguished screech. It twists its neck to level him with a murderous glare, teeth bared and black gums dripping with saliva. 

Link glares right back.

The monster pivots its body and lunges at him. It falls forward on its elbows and slams the club down. Link retreats a few steps and the blow lands short. Dirt showers him as the earth splits beneath the club. 

Link brushes the soil from his eyes as the Moblin struggles to right itself. Its wounded leg is slick with blood and refuses to bear its weight for longer than a few seconds. Even if it does manage to get up again, he can easily outmaneuver it. 

He sheathes his sword and readies his bow again, putting a wider distance between them. The Moblin spits at his feet as Link pulls the bowstring taut. 

Movement over the Moblin's shoulder catches his eye just before he releases the arrow. At the edge of the woods he'd been in earlier, a huge golden wolf moves between the trees. It turns its head to look at him with one menacing red eye before disappearing deeper into the grove.

"No," He breathes. 

His hands shake on the bow. 

_Not now._

He hears the Moblin bellow, and curses for letting himself be distracted. He fires the arrow with unsteady hands. It misses, nicking the Moblin on the cheek as it soars past it. Before Link can load another the monster screams and hurls its club at him.

He doesn't react in time, and the end of the weapon catches him in the chest. Link feels his bow splinter and crack as both he and the club go tumbling backwards towards the edge of the river. 

He lands on his back, stunned and gasping as the air is pushed from his lungs. Agony tears through his chest, renders him immobile. The taste of iron floods his mouth, and through the ringing in his ears he hears Beedle shouting his name. 

Link blinks black spots away from his vision. He forces his head to the side. 

The Moblin is dragging itself through the grass towards him, grinning viciously. Beedle has taken up throwing rocks at the monster, but it does little to deter it. Those glowing blue eyes stay locked on Link. 

_Get up,_ he urges his paralyzed body, _get up._ Link feels his fingers twitch, clawing uselessly at the dirt as he tries to move, to reach for his sword. 

The Moblin is upon him now, looming over him and blocking out the sky. Blood from the cut on its cheek drips down its snout and lands on Link's face. Link swallows down bile as the monster's hot, rancid breath washes over him. It closes a hand around his throat, thick fingers wrapping around his nose and mouth too, and begins to squeeze. 

Link struggles, his body finally, _finally_ beginning to feebly respond to him. He summons the last of his strength as unconsciousness threatens to close in. Tearing his sword from its sheath, he stabs the Moblin in the chest.

Blood bubbles in the corners of the Moblin's mouth. It looks down at the blade piercing its body almost in surprise. It gurgles and falls, landing with a crash beside Link. It doesn't move again. 

Beedle is there suddenly, helping him to his feet and steadying him when he stumbles. He wrings his hands together and asks in a voice high with frantic worry if Link is alright. 

After a few hacking coughs Link manages to nod. 

"I'll be alright." Link rasps, rubbing his neck. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine. A bit bruised but okay. They came out of nowhere! I didn't even hear them approach until it was too late. If you hadn't been here I would've - they would've - " His freckles stand out as his face pales. He looks at Link with awe. "You saved my life."

Link, uncomfortable with such open gratitude directed his way, shrugs and says, "Consider it me paying you back for attacking you this morning."

Beedle cracks a tiny grin, and relaxes a bit. "That's fair. Now we're even, I suppose." His eyes go wide in the next second.

"My backpack! My wares!" 

Beedle spins on his heel and dashes over to where his mobile stall and its contents are strewn across the ground. He drops to his knees, tugging at his hair.

"No, no, no! This will take hours to reorganize! I can't believe the nerve of those stupid brutes. It took me weeks to cultivate those herbs! I have a buyer on the line, how will I replace them on such short notice?" 

As Beedle begins to sort through his goods, muttering under his breath all the while, Link turns back to the fallen Moblin. 

His sword is still in its chest. 

Link grabs the hilt and yanks the weapon out, studying it with a frown. The edges, darkened with blood, look chipped. He knew it wasn't of great durability when he acquired it, and hadn't honestly intended on carrying it this long. But now with his bow broken it was the only weapon he had until they reached Kakariko Village. 

Link stows his sword away and tries not to think of what lost him his bow and nearly gotten him killed in the first place. 

_Something hidden_

Link fixes his hair where it'd fallen out of his ponytail and smooths his bangs back into place.

_Something dead._

He adjusts his doublet, refuses to look towards the woods. His chest hurts, worse when he draws in breath, but nothing feels broken. Come morning he's going to have some mean bruises. He takes a sluggish step and huffs as his body protests.  
They won't reach Kakariko by nightfall at this rate - even if Beedle manages to get everything under wraps, Link knows his own injuries will slow them down. 

Without warning, something grabs his leg and pulls. Link barely manages to catch himself before his face smashes against the ground.

He props himself up on his elbows and sees the Moblin, still alive, but just barely. Its hand is wrapped firmly around his calf. The monster wheezes out a laugh and rolls its broken body into the river, dragging Link with it. 

Beedle shouts his name before his head goes under the water. 

" _Link_!"

 

-

 

All his senses are consumed by the roar of the river. 

The Moblin, even in its death throes and turning the water rushing past them red, seems determined to take Link to the grave with it. No matter how many kicks he aims at its face, the monster refuses to let go of him. Even the current bearing them through the river at an alarming pace doesn't stop it.

The current does fling his sword out of his hand when Link makes to draw it. The blade glints as its swept away and out of sight. 

Link tries to pry the Moblin's hand off but the water makes his already weakened body clumsy. Lungs screaming for air, he breaks the surface for half a second. He doesn't get the chance to take a breath before the Moblin's grip drags him back down like an anchor. 

This is the last thing he's going to see, he realizes. Those glowing eyes watching him drown. Who knows where their bodies will wind up. Washed ashore to be picked apart by scavengers. 

He didn't even last a week. 

His forehead _burns._ Like fire it catches and ignites him entirely. He thrashes against the pain, but there's no escaping it. It's in his muscles, his bones, in every last nerve, alive and moving beneath his skin. 

Link shuts his eyes against it and sees a brilliant white through his eyelids. In the space the fire leaves behind, something raw and primal takes its place. 

Link opens his eyes as the white light fades. The water doesn't feel so cold anymore. 

A fog covers his mind. It stills his panic, his fear, and lets instinct take the reigns.

He rears forward with renewed strength and snaps powerful jaws shut around the Moblin's neck. Flesh tears off in ribbons beneath teeth that are sharper than they should be. Blood and water flood his mouth. The monster's pulse beats hot under his tongue. Until it doesn't.

The Moblin lets go. 

Dead, his gut tells him as he swims for the surface. Dead.

Something's wrong, he knows as he sucks down air, kicking to stay afloat. His body is wrong. He doesn't look, not yet. Somehow he knows if he does the fear will return and the river will claim him.

Scenery blurs past. Rocky cliffsides and insurmountable shores on all sides. He lets the water bear him until that changes and the terrain gives way to muddy riverbanks. Link fights the current and makes for a small cove in the shoreline where the water calms.

He drags himself up onto solid ground and promptly collapses. 

_Breathe._

_Just breathe._

He shudders, digging his feet into the silt. It feels strange beneath them. Link raises his head and looks back.

Where his feet should be are two large mud-covered paws.

He yells in alarm. Or at least tries to. What comes out instead is a high-pitched yelp. The sound startles him to his feet. Not on two, but all four. He staggers around to the edge of the river and leans over to peer at his reflection.

A wolf stares back, blue-eyed with light tan fur. The color blends into a motley of off-white across the muzzle and down the legs, and a faint grey around the eyes and tail. There's a spot on the center of the forehead where the fur darkens, forms a faint but familiar shape. 

The Triforce, his fuzzy memory supplies through the confusion. The mark Beedle mentioned. It did exist.

Link turns his head, watching the wolf in the water do the same. 

_This is me._

Link sits back on his haunches. Water falls in small droplets from his fur. 

His _fur._

_King Rhoam never mentioned this,_ he thinks wildly. 

The King would've said something, he's sure of it. And amnesiac or not, he's certain he's never been able to shapeshift before.

There's little doubt left that the Stalfos in his dream was very much real, and that it was responsible for this. Somehow. He'd worry about finding a suitable explanation when he saw the spirit next and beat it into the ground. 

If he ever manages to change back. What if this was permanent?

All of his belongings are gone. The Sheikah Slate, his paraglider, his clothes. He doesn't know if the river took them or if they just vanished when he transformed. He desperately hopes they're safe; The tablet was Zelda's, and he despairs at losing the one connection he has to her. 

He needs to go back. He needs to follow the river back west and find Beedle and get to the village. Impa might know of some way to help. 

It won't be easy without his map, and he has no idea how he'll explain his situation to Beedle without frightening him away. 

Link huffs, wanting nothing more than to bury his face in his hands. He covers it with a paw instead. The effect isn't quite the same.

The easterly wind rises. And on it is a scent so faint it's hardly there at all, but it has Link's attention at once. 

_Seasalt._

He's nowhere near the ocean.

Longing closes around his heart like a vice as red and gold flash in his mind. He thinks of the night before, and whoever he'd been on the verge of remembering. Even if he can't recall their face or their name, he knows that smell. Knows them.  
His resolve hardens.

This is the closest he's been to remembering something. Some _one._ He can't pass up this chance, not now. Not with whoever it is so close. 

He'll go east. In this strange new body, chasing a half-memory. 

Kakariko will have to wait.

 

 

-

 

Trekking through the wilds is much easier on four legs. 

Monsters seem less interested in harassing him. He'd like to attribute it to the mouthful of sharp teeth he bares at the few who spare him a curious look, but wages it has more to do with his animal appearance as a whole.  
They must not see much to gain in going after a lone wolf, he supposes. The few that try, waving wicked looking skinning knives at him, are easily outpaced. 

The other animals pay him little mind. Deer still flee when he gets too close, and besides a few glances from some hovering crows, nothing bothers with him.

The heightened senses are certainly a boon. He's hyperaware of little movements he would've missed before, and catches sounds his Hylian ears could have never hoped to hear. And tracking that scent is painfully easy with his new nose. 

The seasalt grows stronger with every step he takes. His stomach gives a little lurch at the thought of meeting whoever's at the end of it. He wishes he could remember their name.

The sun hangs low in the sky now as evening settles in. He's kept close to the water, following the river as the current steadily calmed. If only he had the Sheikah Slate, he'd have some idea of what lay ahead. 

The river eventually curves. He follows it around a bend where the water empties into the mouth of a lake. Link scales a small hill along the shoreline for a better view. 

The lake's surface is like a second sky, backlit clouds rocking gently in the water's reflection. Nearby there's a ruined dock with grass growing between the cracks in the wooden posts. Low cliffs and slim waterfalls border the far side of the lake. 

It would be beautiful, were it not for the band of Bokoblins further down his side of the shore. There's four total, three of them waist-deep in the water and spearing at random spots with their rudimentary swords. It almost looks as though they're searching for food. The fourth hangs back on dry land with a bow slung over its back.

Link tips his head up, catches the scent he'd been tailing again, wondering if whoever it belonged to had moved somewhere else. But to his dismay the smell ends here, with nothing in sight but the Bokoblins. 

He came all this way just to watch some monsters go fishing. He gets the feeling someone he once knew would've laughed themselves sick at that. 

Link kicks at a rock with his back leg, feeling foolish and wondering if he can reach Kakariko before exhaustion catches up to him.

There's a disturbance in the center of the lake that gives him pause. Bubbles rise rapidly to the surface as the water begins to churn. The Bokoblins shove each other and point towards it, weapons up and ready. 

Link watches as a Zora emerges from the water. A Zora with red scales and golden eyes, adorned in silver filigree and clutching an ornate trident. 

In one fluid motion the Zora launches the trident at the nearest Bokoblin. The force behind it throws the monster backwards. Its body floats in the shallows, trident sticking out of its chest. The remaining Bokoblin cry out in alarm as the Zora surges through the water towards them.

Memory crashes against reality like a tidal wave, coming together at last. Link runs down the hillside, everything else falling away as a name begins to form in a mouth that can't speak it. 

_Mipha!_

A howl tears free from his throat. 

_I know you,_ his heart sings, heavy paws hitting the earth. _I know you._

The Zora, who had retrieved the trident and was now engaged in a nearly effortless fight, startles and turns to look at him with a bewildered expression and it's -

\- not -

-her.

Link skids to a stop in the sand. 

They hold each other's gaze and Link sees the Zora properly now, sees every glaring mistake that wars with what his memory says should be. Too big, with too long fins and an angular face. 

It's not her. 

Link's ears flatten against his head. He keens lowly before he can stop himself. The Zora frowns at the sound.

The Bokoblins in the water take advantage of the Zora's distraction. One of them gets close and strikes at the Zora's left facial fin, carving an x-shaped cut into it. The Zora hisses and refocuses on the monsters with a vengeance, wielding the trident with practiced grace. 

Link, frozen on the sandbank, sees the Bokoblin on land moving in his peripheral. It's taken out its bow and is nocking an arrow, yellow and pronged. The projectile's tip sparks as the Bokoblin takes aim.

The Zora doesn't notice. He's finishing off the last Bokoblin in the water. He'll be dead within seconds once that arrow hits him, Link knows.

She had - Mipha had told him once. 

_"Electricity is lethal to our kind."_

Link slams into the Bokoblin before it can fire. 

The shock arrow falls short and lands in the dirt, discharging harmlessly. The Bokoblin lands under Link. It beats at his fur and shrieks as Link finds its throat. Tendons puncture and tear beneath his teeth, and Link jerks his head side to side until the Bokoblin's flailing finally stops. 

Link drops it, blood matting his fur, and turns to see the Zora watching him. 

The delicate metalwork of the Zora's filigree catches the sun as he wades closer. The gash on his fin has started to congeal. It'll probably scar. His face is solemn, but there's a guarded wonder in his eyes. He rises from the water and steps ashore, and Link steps back. Uncertainty swells within him. 

The Zora moves with an exaggerated slowness as he lowers himself to one knee, never breaking eye contact. The cliffs have almost eclipsed the sun, and the last of its rays fall upon him. The Zora's red scales shine iridescent in the dying light.  


For a moment the Zora hesitates, gauging the wolf before him. Then he places his trident in the sand and extends a clawed hand out to Link. His expression gentles, grows into something so ardent that Link feels his unease ebb away. 

"Do not be afraid," The Zora says.

Link approaches him, drawn like a moth to flame. He pushes his head under the Zora's hand, touching a cold nose to his palm. Breathes in the smell of seasalt. 

_I'm not._

Link closes his eyes. He hears the Zora exhale quietly, as if in awe. 

It feels nice, to be touched. To be someone other than Link, the Champion who fell and rose again with less than what he started with. To be no one, just for a moment.

It's selfish, he knows. He nudges his head a little more firmly against the Zora's hand all the same.

It wasn't Mipha, but it was a life saved, and part of a memory recovered. It was the only good thing to come out of today. 

As the sun sets and the Zora cards careful fingers through his fur, Link lets himself be content with that. 

 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pile of ending notes:
> 
> link's wolf form is heavily based on a Himalayan wolf. [this one to be exact](http://www.thewolfarmy.com/images/himalayan%20wolf%201.jpg)
> 
> links memory recovery is going to be pretty nonlinear. like remembering bits and pieces of his friendship with someone before remembering they were one of the champions who died. so his foray in zora's domain is going to be a little bit of an emotional nightmare
> 
> i like the idea of all zora smelling a little bit different. always imagined mipha and sidon having a special kind of ocean smell that link's p. familiar with.
> 
> and thus ends another chapter slapped together after many OT shifts and too much coffe


	3. Chapter 3

Getting monster flesh out of your teeth is considerably harder without thumbs. 

Link works his tongue, gagging on the taste of tendons. He hacks out a bloody chunk as best he can; a wolf's body isn't exactly equipped for sophisticated jaw movement.

The Zora is knelt beside him at the water's edge. Link had let him rub his ears until he was sure he'd melt into a boneless pile on the sandbank. The Zora was utterly taken by the texture of his fur, laughing a low, lovely sound when he found a spot to scratch that made Link's leg kick. 

Eventually, the blood pooling in the corners of his mouth could be ignored no longer, and Link (reluctantly) withdrew to try and rinse his mouth of the taste.

The Zora followed and had begun methodically cleaning the gore from his trident. The weapon was nearly spotless now, shining a soft silver in the moonlight. He keeps a respectable distance, no doubt still mindful of the fact that Link did rip out a Bokoblin's throat right in front of him.

Or maybe he was just being polite while Link tried to clean himself off.

He glances up periodically, watching as Link lowers his head and lets lake water flood his mouth. 

The Zora is handling their unusual encounter remarkably well. He's either brave or reckless to remain in the company of what could be, for all he knew, a wild animal. A wolf that saved his life but a wolf all the same.

But it's not as though Link's about to ruin their tentative camaraderie; he's grateful for the company.

When the Zora's gaze returns back to his trident, Link studies him.

His filigree, now that Link's had time to see it up close, is too well made to belong to just anyone. A Zora of noble standing maybe, perhaps someone belonging to the royal family. Which makes it all the more puzzling that he's alone this far from Zora's Domain.

Link might not have access to the map on the Sheikah Slate but he's not a fool. The river couldn't have borne him that close to Lanayru, and there was no downpour from the Divine Beast anywhere near them.

_You're a long way from home,_ Link muses.

There's so much he wants to ask him and it's just his luck he's stuck in a body that can't. 

_What are you doing out this far? Are you looking for someone? Do you know a Zora named Mipha? You look like her._

The Zora catches him staring and holds out his hand. He smiles when Link huffs and knocks his head against it. 

"You're quite strange for a wolf." The Zora says, stroking the fur above his eyes.

_I've met stranger,_ Link thinks. 

Making Kakariko before the night ends is looking less and less likely. His injuries have started to catch up with him. Breathing hurts, and his body feels like one massive bruise. Link flinches when the Zora's hand touches his neck.

The Zora pulls back, worry in his yellow eyes. 

"Are you injured?"

Link forces himself to be still as the Zora reaches for him again, carefully searching for surface wounds. Brave or reckless, he still can't decide. When the Zora's fingers brush a little too firmly against his ribs Link can't help the reactive snarl. 

The sound gives the Zora pause, but doesn't make him stop.

Reckless, Link decides. 

_Pot, meet kettle,_ Zelda's voice says out of nowhere. Not a memory, but her. It's the first time she's spoken to him since waking up in the Shrine of Resurrection. Her words are faint, hardly more than a whisper. She sounds tired, and vanishes the moment he tries to reach for her. 

His mind might not be his own and Zelda might be a near perfect stranger to him, but he'd rather have her in his head than the Stalfos. 

The Zora takes advantage of his distraction and presses a hand against his bruised throat. Link yelps and shoots him a reproachful look. The Zora moves his hands back to Link's ears with an apologetic smile.

"No open wounds at least," He murmurs, more to himself than to Link. 

Link's sure there's little the Zora could do for him were he hurt beyond some bruising, but he appreciates the concern.

Link shuts his eyes, focuses on the Zora's half-familiar, living seawater smell over the pains of his body. He goes utterly still as a memory washes over him, incomplete and hazy as a mirage. 

He hears Mipha's voice, like a song he can't remember all the words to. Sees her face, full of childlike wonder. She's cradling something small and wriggling that makes a noise Link can't place. She holds it out to him and beams.

_"Link...... you to meet....would you like to hold..?"_

There's a phantom touch - a fleeting, feather light pressure on his nose. And then it's gone. 

He opens his eyes. 

Link follows the instinct the fragmented memory leaves behind instead of trying to make sense of it. He leans forward and gently touches his nose to the Zora's. It's still wet from the lake, and just as cold as Link's own.

He's not sure what he's waiting for, but he doesn't think it comes. Nothing happens that prompts him to remember anything else. This close the Zora's face is out of focus but Link can still make out the confusion that clouds it. 

Link withdraws, swallowing his disappointment before it can choke him. It's not the Zora's fault he can't understand a half-formed memory. It might not even be about him. He might just look too much like Mipha. 

He sees the Zora try to catch his eye and averts his gaze skyward. He finds the moon where it hangs behind the clouds and imagines it with a face. Imagines it falling. 

_I've raised a hundred questions and answered none._

Link feels a gentle, questioning touch against his head. He steps away, steeling himself against the budding longing that's taken root in his chest.

It's time to go. 

_I'll end up following him home like a lost puppy otherwise._

Link butts his head against the Zora's in a final goodbye. It earns him a smile. 

He turns to leave, retracing the route that led him here. He stops at the mouth of the lake, paws digging into the sandbank, and looks back just in time to see the Zora, trident in hand, slip beneath the surface of the water and out of sight.

Maybe they'll meet again.

 

-

 

He doesn't get far very far. He knew he wouldn't, not with the way his ribs keep twinging. It still comes as a tiny surprise when his legs give out and he falls to the ground with all the grace of a marionette whose strings were cut.

Link grunts as pain radiates throughout his body, made worse when he tries to stand. His legs wobble, refusing to cooperate. It doesn't look like he'll be doing anymore traveling tonight.

He half-drags himself towards a tree along the riverbank and into the space under its exposed roots. It's an awkward fit. The area is small, cramped, and dark. But safe, he hopes, for the night.

He can still smell the Zora, his scent growing ever fainter. A strange sadness holds him fast and doesn't let go. Link's ears flatten against his head and he shoves his nose in the dirt. He ignores the discomfort of it, the ache of his wounds, his melancholy, until all he breathes in is earth.

Link shuts his eyes and lets the chirping crickets lull him to sleep.

 

-

 

Link had two, foolish hopes for the morning. One, he'd feel better. Two, he'd be Hylian again. Both are dashed immediately upon waking. Every inch of him feels like it's been beaten with a hammer, and he's still covered in fur. 

_So much for that,_ He thinks, stretching his paws.

The morning sun is still low in the sky when Link crawls out from beneath the tree. Only a few birds are chirping. The rest of the forest still sleeps.

Link pads over to the river and eyes the water. He has no supplies and there's no way he can boil it without hands, but shouldn't his wolf body have a stronger constitution anyway? Thirst wins out over indecision, and he lowers his head to lap at the water.

If he gets dysentery from this he'll not only attack the Stalfos next time he sees it, he'll break its bony neck.

After he's had his fill he feels a little better. His stomach growls, but there's nothing to be done for that just yet. He draws the line at eating raw meat. He'll have to find something else to stave off the hunger until he reaches Kakariko.

His plans for locating the village without a map are simple enough. Retrace his steps and follow what he remembers from the map until he finds the village. As for actually entering it, well...he's still working on that. A wolf waltzing right into the heart of town likely won't end well. 

Walking is difficult, but he's determined to see Impa today so he grits his teeth against every sore step. 

Further along the riverbank something catches his eye. Link moves closer, snorting when he sees what it is. Washed up on the shoreline is a waterlogged bundle of herbs. Some of the stalks are snapped in half but the leaves look intact. The thin twine keeping it all together has held, tied in a neat little ribbon.

Link picks the bundle up gingerly with his teeth, a warm, bitter flavor exploding on the back of his tongue, and continues on. 

 

-

 

As soon as Link glimpses the Dueling Peaks again he turns his back to the river and heads north. He can't recall specificities from the Sheikah Slate's map, but knew the general direction to travel in. The rest he figures his senses can take care of. If he can track a single Zora through the wilds he can find a village. 

The woods give way to sprawling fields surrounded by distant mountains. Link keeps to the high grass, staying a healthy distance away from the road when he finally sees it. The last thing he wants is to frighten some poor traveler. 

He keeps an eye on the path just in case any merchants with unfortunate haircuts come wandering along. 

He tries to think of where Beedle might be now and becomes so lost in thought he nearly misses the croak by his feet. Link glances down and moves his paw from where it'd almost stepped on a frog.

It croaks again, staring up at him, and without rhyme or reason Link's suddenly seized by the sense that he's supposed to eat the little green animal. He can't fathom it and doesn't try to, not even when some part of his mind stubbornly insists there's a benefit to it.

His stomach grumbles, as if to test his resolve. The frog blinks up at him. 

Link swallows and looks away, carefully stepping over the little critter and fervently hoping that a century ago he didn't spend his time traipsing about eating frogs. 

The sun climbs higher in the sky, passing behind clouds that throw huge, slow moving shadows across the land. The grass rolls in languid waves, bowing under the wind. 

Link smells the settlement before clapping eyes on it. Burning wood flavors the air, and when Link concentrates he picks out a string of other scents. Cooked food, horses, and a soil-and-sweat smell he can't properly name that he hazards might be Hylian in nature.

It can't be Kakariko, not at the pace he's going.

Link quickens his stride, curiosity piqued. It's not long until a yurt-like structure decorated with multi-color flags and a large, wooden horse head on its roof comes into view. Horses are stabled under awnings built along the outside of the tent, and even from this distance he can see people tending to them. 

A stable.

He watches a girl with red hair feed one of the horses before heading over to a nearby campfire. She stokes the flames, and the smell of whatever's skewered above them hits him with all the force the Moblin club did the other day. 

Link drops back to sit on his haunches. 

Beedle could be there, even if Link can see no sign of his signature backpack from here. Food _is_ there, that's a definite. Getting it is another matter entirely, and he's not big on the thought of having to steal, but...

A far-off croak from the field behind him makes him shudder. 

He'll be careful. In and out with none the wiser. 

 

-

 

It's amazing how quickly his plan falls to disaster. In his defense, he'd forgotten the averse reactions animals would have for him as a wolf. 

Once some of the travelers begin to disperse - either heading round to the other side of the tent or going inside - Link moves in as quietly as he can. There was still no sign of Beedle or any of his belongings, so he decides to postpone that search for the time being. 

The girl was the only one nearby, her back to him and attention on the horses again, humming to herself. This close to another Hylian, he gets an actual grasp on his size. Not quite on level with a horse, but he's taller than the girl, easily. 

Larger than any wolf ought to be. If she sees him she'll definitely panic. 

Link prowls up to the campfire, cants his head to better see what's roasting above it. Crayfish. Well, at least it's not frog. He works his jaw, clumsily using his tongue to move the herbs to the back of his mouth. The astringent taste of them has long gotten old.  
Once he's made room Link gently grabs the wooden skewer with his front teeth. His hold is secure enough, and he's about to start backing away when one of the horses lets out a shrill noise. 

He freezes, looking up in time to meet eyes with the girl, who's turned to face him. She doesn't look that much younger than him, give or take a few (hundred) years. Her face is white with fear and she looks halfway to screaming. 

That is, until she sees what Link's got clamped in his teeth. Then her face shifts dramatically from terrified to livid, and she grabs the closest thing to her - an empty jug of milk - and chucks it at him. 

It hits him square on the nose and he growls, unable to help himself. As if his body wasn't in enough pain. Granted, he is stealing her food. 

The horses begin to panic in earnest and their commotion draws attention from inside the tent. Link turns tail and runs, not too keen on having anything else thrown at him. The last thing he hears as he sprints out of sight is the girl's indignant voice.

"Did you see that? _That giant wolf stole my food!_ "

 

-

 

He feels a little more alive after eating. A good thing too, as the further north he goes, the steeper the road becomes. All too soon the open landscape changes to narrow mountain paths with little in the way of cover. There'll be no hiding from anyone he passes here.

But for once luck seems to favor him, and the road remains blessedly empty. 

The day drags on. The sun dips below the mountain range just as he catches the scent of firewood and the first archway appears. More are quick to follow, each gate emblemized with banners bearing the symbol of the Sheikah. Link's stomach twists itself into knots as he passes under them. 

The village must be close and he has yet to figure out how to approach the Sheikah. Would they drive him away if he showed them he wasn't a threat? Or would they forgo taking the risk at all and outright attack him?

Beedle had mentioned they were wary of outsiders. He can only imagine they were wary of wolves as well. 

There was only one way to find out. He's already come this far.

Link crosses the final gate and sees Kakariko. 

The narrow mountain road opens up into a lush basin. Trees and modest homesteads decorate the landscape. All of the buildings have thatched straw rooftops save for one, the most elaborate in the village with three waterfalls behind it. The entire village is bathed in the soft glow of lamplight.

He barely has time to admire it. There's a hiss of displaced air before something blunt strikes at his back leg with enough force to make him stumble. Link snarls, hackles rising, and cranes his head back to see a Sheikah armed with a glaive crouched low behind him. Faster than he can blink more appear with hardly a sound, surrounding him with their weapons drawn.

Link forces himself to stay as still as possible, to not lash out. It goes against every instinct, but he knows he won't walk out of this alive if he does. 

The Sheikah begin to murmur to one another in low voices. 

"What is it, Cado?"

"A wolf you idiot."

"I can _see_ that. It's not a normal wolf, it's far too big - "

"Clearly."

"Why is it carrying sage?"

"Did the Calamity spawn it?"

"Cado, look at its forehead!"

The Sheikah directly in front of Link, the one the others called Cado, levels his glaive to Link's forehead, the tip of the blade barely touching the mark of the Triforce. His ascetic face is unreadable.

Link stares him down, willing him without words to understand. 

It's then, with no warning, that he changes back. The Sheikah cry out in alarm as a burst of white light engulfs him. A familiar fire lights his veins as his body shifts and with a loud gasp Link drops to his hands and knees, Hylian once more. 

The Sheikah Slate, back with him again, tumbles to the ground. 

Trembling, Link fists his hands in the grass. The herbs fall from his mouth. He feels the cold brush of steel under his chin as Cado uses his glaive to gently tip Link's face up. 

"Alert Lady Impa at once," Cado says, never taking his eyes off Link. 

Two of the Sheikah vanish into the village. Those that remain keep their weapons trained on Link. 

All of his belongings have returned to him, he notes dimly. Even his clothes, which felt too thin now after having fur. Whatever magic spirited everything away when he was a wolf kept it all safe. 

The Sheikah Slate glows softly in the grass. Link reaches for it with shaking fingers. Cado's dark eyes follow the movement. He taps the tip of his glaive to the slate.

"Where did you get this?"

"It was given to me," Link whispers, finding his voice.

Why did he change back now? What prompted it?

"Lower your weapons." An unfamiliar, papery voice commands. 

The Sheikah surrounding him obey the order without question and silently part as a woman steps forward. She's old and terribly short, wearing a hat that looks bigger than she is. A smile splits her ancient face the moment she sees Link. 

She approaches him, ignoring the words of caution from the other Sheikah, and takes his hand in both of hers. 

"Hello, Link," Lady Impa says. "It's been a long time."

 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eat the frog link.  
> hey guys! i'm sorry about the big delay between updates. my health took a turn for the worse and i ended up hospitalized for a while. i've been picking up extra hours at work to cover the financial expenses of it all, so this chapter got pushed to the backburner longer than i intended. i'm still not fully recovered and still cranking out overtime shifts so this chapter is a bit shorter than the others.  
> also  
> i'm having an existential crisis over where sidon's nose is. anyways i'm pretending its that little light red part just below his massive head. teeny tiny barely there.  
> thank you for reading!


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